


The Difference

by bamfsback (anomalagous)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Implied Non-Con Sex Act
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalagous/pseuds/bamfsback
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't know how to describe this one. It's not rape, exactly, but there's implication of something close enough I'm afraid it might be triggery. Reader Beware.</p><p>Kurt Wagner and a little contemplation on the ladies of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference

He remembers, once, being woken by Amanda as she moved in the bed beside him. It was like coming back to consciousness with his face covered with a wet film, _struggling_ for it, parts of his body coming online piecemeal before the rest of it could catch up. His tail felt strangely restricted, the end of it _warm_ and _damp_ and surrounded by a sort of caress he felt he should have been familiar with, if he could only _think_ for a moment beyond the maddening tickling against the sensitive edges of the spade. It wasn't until he tried to move it, tried to _free_ it, and Amanda moaned in a low, needy way that _dread_ spread through him, the fear that he _did_ know what was happening and _so much_ wanted to be _wrong_.

Allowing his tail to go still, Kurt turned with his upper body, eyes flaring in the darkness as they settled on the form of his girlfriend beside him and made sense of the scene in a gut-wrenching record time.

It was downright _obscene_. Amanda had her head thrown back, her legs spread and bent at the knees, and she had taken his tail-- _his tail_ , a part of _his body_ \--in one hand while he was sleeping and she...she had _driven_ it, _thrust_ it into...She was _using it_ to...

The nausea he felt as he teleported across the room had nothing to do with the brimstone dimension.

She'd been close to her climax and he'd known it even before the jaunt; the noise _she_ made was one of near rage and frustration. The fight they'd had after that, Kurt maintaining his half from the _ceiling_ where she couldn't _touch_ him, was like few fights he'd ever _had_ in his life. He could still hear her voice in his head sometimes, many years later, sharp as a knife and cutting just as deep. _You've done that plenty enough times while you were awake. So what if you were asleep? What's the difference?_

_**What's the difference?** _

They'd broken up the next morning, or maybe the morning after, and as Amanda left in a storm of fury that would never quite calm, Kurt retreated into himself and wrapped the fear that he'd never be anything but a _tool_ to any woman willing to even look at him _twice_ securely around his heart. He pinned it in place with his own self-loathing.

He remembers, once, being woken by Cerise as she moved in the bed beside him. He was jolted awake, like a heart attack, by her almost terrifyingly strong hand on the base of his tail, pulling him closer. The other on his shoulder, pushing unforgivingly until Kurt woke up enough to roll onto his back. That was submission enough, wakefulness enough, and she would take his head between both of her hands with a force he was afraid might _crush it_ and grant him a kiss he could equally only describe as _crushing_.

She left dents in him, bruises that couldn't be seen by the merit that he was _already bruise-colored_. He couldn't say that he had objected, really; there were times where he was equally rough, allowed his loathed animal nature off its leash on a woman whom he couldn't hurt with it, but there were times far more common where he wished that Cerise or her people had _any notion_ of gentleness whatsoever.

She sprained two of the vertebrae in his tail once without knowing it and he never said a word, saying to Moira instead that he must have wrenched it the wrong way and that it wasn't anything to be concerned with. Kurt didn't know if it was worse that she was so unremittingly _rough_ in her need for him or that she didn't _realize_ how poorly his body stood up to her attentions, how little awareness she showed for his state of being. After all, she was _there_ , wasn't she? She wanted to _be with him_ didn't she? It was more than nearly any other woman had ever shown, _far_ more than he could have expected, so _what was the difference?_

**_What was the difference?_ **

He wakes as Kitty moves in the bed beside him. He wakes like breathing in, easily and in one smooth motion, to the feel of her fingers at the base of his spine, just at the top of his tail. Sleep swims in his hazy eyes and he can feel her fingernails dig so gently, just _barely_ through his fur into the dark skin beneath. She draws them upwards, pushing fur against the grain as she goes, and electric sparks make their way through his body, darting across his ribs, into his chest. She takes her time, her body growing closer to his as she goes, and by the time her hand is between his shoulderblades he's arcing his back into her. Her laugh is pressed right behind his ear and then her mouth is on its outer edge, teeth putting the faintest pressure along it, and his vision goes white. The electricity strikes lower, like lightning, towards his groin.

She moves her hand over his hip and she grounds him out.

He turns in her arms and she has his name ready to whisper into his mouth, encouragement and request in one short syllable. She tangles her fingers in the deep curls of his hair, exposes her throat to the wet of his tongue, wraps her legs around his waist and invites him inside. She _invites_ him, she does not demand, she does not take, she does not _intimidate_ , she merely lets him know he is welcome and he, he is all too happy to accept the invitation.

She fits around him as if she were meant to and they are, together, content with the space he has molded for himself inside of her, where her hands did as much of the work as his. _More_ of the work. She does not leave dents in him--she fills them in, rounding out his wounded and his scarred places with the ephemera of her love until he's _whole_ again, a homonculus of the parts of himself that never left, the parts she grafted back on, and the parts she simply filled in with _herself_.

That, **_that_ ** was the difference.


End file.
